


Catharsis

by Qu-ko (Quthemighty)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 21:48:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quthemighty/pseuds/Qu-ko
Summary: The two of you move like oil and water, never quite dissolving together and easily identifiable as to which one is which; but positioned in a perfectly balanced dichotomy of one.





	Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for nothing. However, I have no explanation to offer either.
> 
> Uhh. My ideas really go off the rails sometimes... funny thing.

A figure rises from a throne of bones. You realize it’s you, watching yourself from your mind’s eye. Your double flexes fingers, walking up to you and leaning down and putting its mouth right next to your ear.

“Good evening.”

It feels freeing to talk, for once. You freeze up, scanning the surroundings, then at your doppelganger, thinking,  _Oh, I must be dreaming._

“That’s no way to think at a guest.” It smiles and makes a point of investigating its blood-caked fingernails, licking a patch of red from beside chapped lips. “Now, how about introducing yourself to me?”

You swallow hard and look to the side. When you finally find it in you to look at your own eyes, you feel a surge of something warm and unpleasant. “You know who I am. What do you want?”

Its eyes narrow as the two of you draw closer, drawing in an exaggerated breath. “The same thing you want... The same thing you've always wanted.” Feigning a look of disappointment, it tilts its head to the side, while in reality, it’s hard to contain laughter. This is how you’ve been your whole life. It’s hilarious. You’ll get it eventually.

You – no, the one with your face – it cannot have that name anymore,  _Esteem_ – yes, Esteem’s expression turns  shamelessly amused when it catches a flicker of confusion race across your thoughts, and then an equally sharp flash of horror all over your face. “You know,” it says (and, really, is this what you sound like?), the words coming out whispered and with the clarity of the sound of shattered glass, “this is all you. It’s... all... you.”

It’s all you. You could have stopped it if you had wanted to, but a part of you hadn't wanted to. You are happy when you hold lives in your hands; you love how beautiful that kind of empowering feeling can be. You love it. You want more of it.

“No.”

Esteem brushes hair from your cheek, an empathetic frown on its face. It wraps an arm around you. "Well, yes. And you know, it's okay. I don't mind. I know about that side of you. It's always been there. You may be mostly free of me, but you're still tainted." The lilt in the voice draws out every sound of that last word. Then, suddenly, it stands up and moves away.

You look up when it makes to leave and, without even thinking, call out after yourself, “Wait. Wait!” You lift yourself a little as the other turns slowly, a mildly interested smirk spreading over its face. “Don’t go. You understand, don’t you? You know. Those people out there,” you gesture broadly in a random direction, toward  _outside_ , “they don’t understand at all.”

It considers its options before holding up hands in mock-surrender. “No, they never did, did they...” And then, right back to the uncomfortably close distance again. The tension you feel is palpable.

“No. No they didn’t. But you,” a pause as you collect yourself, “you see it, right? You understand, right?” It’s hard to say why this is so important, but suddenly it feels like your last lifeline. You have nothing else to hold onto except for the fact that someone could help you figure it out, even if it’s _this_ thing.

"That I do." Half-consciously, it licks a bit of blood from your face, right near one of the cuts outside of your mask. "That I certainly do." It leans over again, grabbing a fistful of shirt before whispering, "And you get it too, don't you..."

You lean in a little, finding yourself staring at your own face. “Yeah...” A hand slowly rises, towards its shoulder and beyond, to tangle in armor fastenings. “Yeah.”

Why does this feel so right? Esteem’s tongue juts out as it finds a nice spot under your jaw to bite at, leaving a definite bruise. Through its senses, you can also taste the ironic tang of blood and it’s driving you crazy.

It smiles again as it sees you tilt your head back, taking the opportunity to rid you of your armor harness and let it clatter down, then raking teeth along the curve of your neck. The hand that isn’t holding onto fabric travels unabashedly to your crotch, just barely brushing it. You’ll be teased until you beg and cry. It wants you to bend and break – almost break, but not quite. You’ve both had enough of breaking.

Your back arches forward just the slightest bit, and your hands fly to newly exposed shoulders to pull the two bodies closer. Every subconscious voice within that tells you this is a bad idea is brushed away by a tendril of thought each time, soft like a lover’s touch. It prods none too gently, however, at your lips with its tongue now, inching you towards what feels peculiarly like a wall,  something you only realize when your shoulder blades hit it. It all happens before you can even process you’re walking backwards at all.

When Esteem pulls back, there is blood on both of your tongues. “I’ve got a deal for you,” it says, trailing a hand up one thigh as it mouths at your jaw. “Shall I make my pitch?”

“Yeah?” The word comes out hitched and breathy as your eyes widen a fraction. You take a little time to lick off the blood from your lips, not caring who it actually belongs to. “What is it?”

The laughter that has been held back this whole time finally spills out in a quiet, chilling sequence between words. “I’ll show you who we are,” and you know instinctively what comes next, “if you show me your resolve.”

At this point, any onlooker might think you were going to kill your clone, or your evil twin, with you backed up against the wall like this. It’s strange, how well you clash with yourself. The two of you move like oil and water, never quite dissolving together and easily identifiable as to which one is which; but positioned in a perfectly balanced dichotomy of one. 

“...All right.”

It has wandering hands, wandering eyes, wandering lips. It doesn’t like to touch, but its hands take what contact they can. It doesn’t really smile, but its lips twist upwards. You’re on autopilot now, because you’re tired, very tired all of a sudden. You feel like your nerve endings are on fire as you rock back and forth in perfect unison.  


In the end, it should scare you a little that you come screaming your own name. It doesn't.

* * *

 

An odd feeling bubbles in your chest, like it wants to release. You decide to just let it go. You draw your hands over your mouth and laugh.

_You have made the right choice._

It tips its nose to yours, comfortingly. You sneak one hand behind your back and wrap it around the hilt of the greatsword.

_What do you want now?_

A large, painful grin spreads over your face.

_Show them who you are, Warrior of Light. Who we are._

We. Just the mere inclusion of the plural makes you smile. For once in your life, you’re not alone. You aren’t alone and you’re so godsdamned happy,  the happiest you’ve been in your life.


End file.
